


A (T)Horny Problem

by CSM_Scriptator



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSM_Scriptator/pseuds/CSM_Scriptator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is stirring, in the Park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“A unicorn? In Sunnydale?”

“Wait a minute,” Zander Harris said, the words, as usual, coming out before his brain was awake enough to analyse them for content and grammar; “I thought unicorns only appeared to – “

“Your point?” Cordelia Chase snapped, while Xander fervently wanted at that moment for the Sunnydale ground ... no, he didn’t, bearing in mind what they (the six of them) knew was under the little Californian town.

“A Unicorn?” Willow Rosenberg’s eyes were a-glow: “Where? When? Is it still there?”

“Of course n— that is, I don’t know.” Suddenly Cordelia was transformed, from the brash assertive prom queen persona she generally projected into a lost child wrapped in an almost-woman’s body.

Rupert Giles, who as well as being Sunnydale High’s school librarian, was a trained Watcher of the supernatural, and was as English tweed, tea and muffins as they came, thought that it was time that he stepped in.

“Where were you when you saw the unicorn, Cordelia?” 

“I was in Stoneacre Park, down by the Dell.”

“Not Smoochers’ Alley,” Xander said, before Willow’s elbow caught his stomach and Buffy kicked his ankle.

Cordelia bit back whatever comment might have been springing to her lips, as she saw her sometime swain wince twice-over, and said “It looked like a pony – milk white, or maybe a Palomino – and it had a horn on its head. Oh, and golden hooves.”

“Gold hooves?” Willow said, abstractedly, her eyes already distant-ish.

^ ^ ^

“Giles ...”

Rupert Giles had thought Buffy had gone home with the other three. Now he realised that the closing of the front door had been to allow her to speak with him in confidence. Which, past experience taught him, might well be a recipe for – 

“Giles – did anything seem ‘off’ to you about the unicorn thing?”

“What do you mean?” Giles dragged his attention back to his protégee: he had noticed that the biscuit barrel was empty – not a real surprise with teenagers – and he hadn’t wanted the Slayer (hungry and ... well ... ) to know where the reserve supply was.

“Well ...” 

Suddenly it was borne in on Rupert that, for once, Buffy was utterly being utterly straight-forward – indeed, almost as focussed as when she was actually in mid-Slay.

He sat down in one armchair and waved to the other.

“What is it, Buffy?”

“It’s too good to be true,” Buffy replied. “Unicorns, I mean. You saw Willow – unicorns are something that little girls dream about,. And that dream doesn't die when you get older. Once this gets out, the Dell will be edge-to-edge with fan-girls, just asking to be carried off on the back of whatever it is that has taken the unicorn’s form.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Giles asked her calmly.

“Me?”

“Buffy – a Watcher can only, really, advise and assist: it’s the Slayer who takes the action. I've been blessed that my Slayer has come with her own advisers and assistants: it’s left me freer to –“

“That’s it!” Buffy said, her eyes as alight as when she faced the worst of the Bads: “Cordy and Xander can pour water – metaphorical water – on the rumour as soon as it surfaces, and you and Will can do the research-thing, so that I have some idea what I’m going to be facing. And as soon as we know – ker-pow! – I go into the action-thing and do the Slayage!”


	2. Chapter 2

Except that things didn’t go that easily.

 

For one thing, the metaphorical water-pourage seemed to inflame interest, rather than squelch it – there were reports of unicorn-fangroups being set up, and little home-made “I ♥ U” badges started turning up, proudly worn. 

For another, Willow Rosenberg didn’t seem to be Determination-Girl when it came to researching “Demons-That-Might-Disguise-Themselves-As-Unicorns.” In fact, she was giving off the impression that the whole idea was a waste of time unless and until they knew that there was anything there.

“This is Cordelia – no offence, Cordy – maybe it was just a pony and a trick of the light.”

And Giles had sort-of been relying on Willow’s help going through his books, so that the intensive researching on his part didn’t become too obvious to Principal Snyder (and if ever there was a man crying out to be Eaten by a Demon, Giles knew no better).

In fact, Buffy caught Willow making little unicorn-y sketches on the back of her note-pad, and gazing out into empty space, obviously dreaming of something.

And Cordelia Chase wasn’t exactly unaffected, either. Harmony Kendall had been one of Cordy’s team since way back, but she had always been the Cordette with the unicorn fetish – pictures, stuffed toys – and when Cordy had tried, as part of the de-fascination process, to redirect her, the attempt had rebounded, and Cordy was now carrying a lemon-and-pink-maned stuffy called ‘Lady Antoinette’ around with her, and was also doing the staring-into-space bit.

 

On the other hand, for a small mercy, Stoneacre Park didn’t seem to be a trouble-spot. Two or three other girls claimed to have seen the unicorn, and while there were occasional spotting-parties, they were mostly of the 11-to-14 year-span, and had to be Home Before Dark. Buffy had adjusted her patrols to cut by there twice a night, with Xander and Cordy swapping out watches there and at the Cemetery. But even the vamps seemed to be on a lie-low for the moment.

“Would a unicorn – a real unicorn, I mean,” she asked Giles, “be powerful enough to ... well, scare vamps away?”

“That would depend,” her Watcher replied, “on how close they came to it, and how old it was – older unicorns would be more of a threat to a vamp – ”

“Yes: I can see that – pointy horn-thing and all. Not wood but – ”

“But reportedly as effective,” Giles said.

 

And then, one night, it was there. So were two cars’-worth of Xander’s Smoochers, but of the smooch there was little because whatever pecs and six-packs the three football receivers might have had, once it was known that the unicorn was there, that was what their girls were busy watching. And it was prancing and curvetting down at the far end of the Dell.

Which was about when the Slayer arrived, and started in on the objective analysis bit Giles wanted of her.

The unicorn was a bit bigger than a pony, milk-white as Cordy had said, and with a golden horn and hooves.

But the prancing it was had a slightly feral air to it, to Buffy’s Slayer-senses, and the beast had fire in its eyes (or that was how she described it to Giles).

“Did it do anything specific ?”

“Not that I noticed – I had maybe four minutes of watching it, and then it just turned and scampered off. Cantered. Very poised.”

When she told the others, both Willow and Cordy were miffed that they hadn’t been there, and wanted all the details told over and over.

“You could have called me! I could have been there in ... well, I had Eric ... I could still have come!!”

“Yes, Buffy – you might have -- !!”

“Will – I was watching it in case it did anything. I didn’t have chance to call you.”

“In any event, Willow,” Giles put in, “We still don’t know if it’s a real unicorn, or – ”

“What else would it be, Giles?” Cordelia protested.

“That remains to be seen,” he said, turning back to his books.

And, seeing neither Cordelia nor Willow looked keen to undertake research, Buffy and Xander sighed and followed the Watcher’s lead.

 

But the next night there were four cars in Smoochers’ Alley, and three of them only contained girls (although in one case, this was less for unicorn-age and more for third-base-age, of the other-team persuasion). And, a quarter-mile back, on top of a suitably-located (and at that time of night, closed) ice-cream stand, there was a video camera, a pair of binoculars, a cell-phone, with Buffy’s number on top of the quick-dial list, and Rupert Giles, in a thick sweater and hacking jacket.

And in a slight peeve – this unicorn was interrupting his watching (or re-watching, since the real thing had been earlier that morning, and he would only just have been getting round to the BBC-America replay) the British Golf Open, from Wentworth, England, a few miles from Her Majesty at Windsor Castle.

But there was no doubt about it: this was a unicorn – or the very image of one. In suburban California. All right, in a park, but equally not in “unspoiled and virgin forest” which was where the legends located them. 

About eighteen hands, he reckoned, corn-gold mane, body two shades lighter. And it shimmered, as though he was seeing it behind a hot day’s heat-haze. What was particularly interesting was that it didn’t seem to be doing more than a basic manifestation – it wasn’t coming closer to any of the spectators, wasn’t even apparently interacting with them, as though it was just demonstrating what it was. He had no sense of purpose from it, no intimation of its being more than a symbol.

 

Buffy was closer, poised on a tree-branch above the closest of the cars – one indication of a hostile move (or was that “an”, like with “hotel”?) and she was going for the intercept. Except there was no hostile move. From either side. The unicorn was just walking to and fro, and (perhaps – it was a subjective thing) showing itself off, and the girls (and most of them, despite the fact that they were in cars, were barely 15 if that ... all right, there were the three in the farthest car, with the fogged-up windows, who might have been 18 (and would have needed to be, for what they were doing – to and with one another – to be in any way the slightest bit legal)) were just watching it and making ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ noises (which to be fair, but in a different context, were also the sort of noises the older trio were making).

And, to be frank, Buffy couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.

It was a small horse. With a horn. In a place where a small horse, without or without hornal appendages (she was not using (or thinking) the word ‘horny’) had no business being. And, if it was a unicorn (and surely that did need an ‘an’ – Giles needed to ‘splain things) it was a mythical beats and oughtn’t to exist. And if it were a demon, then it oughtn’t to continue existing.

And yet ... if she squinted ... if she put aside her Slayer-dom ... it was what her inner heart had yearned for years before – a horse, a magic horse, of her very own.

The thing was, she wasn’t the innocent little girl she had been then any more. Her Dad had gone, there had been the burning-down the gym bit, and then Sunnydale, the Bronze, Willow, and the dying and coming back, and Kendra and Spike’n’Dru. Unicorns – magical horses – weren’t really Elizabeth Summers any more. They were fantasy; she was hard, literally bloody, reality.

 

And then her Slayer-senses started tingling, and she saw a shadow move – she focussed and her brain reinterpreted the shape into that of a dark-clad Robin Hood: someone dressed in smoky-grey, possibly with a camo pattern, carrying a bow and a quiver. And making ready to fire. At the unicorn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing to things

This was so not of the good.

Buffy vaulted from the tree, narrowly missing the car beneath, shoulder-rolled to get her momentum redistributed, and went Warp Factor Nine for the group of bushes the archer was in.  
As she went she was calculating, best as she could: he/she hadn’t actually been ready to fire: they would have to draw the bow, nock an arrow –

She jumped over the first row of bushes, and as she touched down, she heard a sudden exclamation, and then movement.

Working from near-blind (the street-lights on Smoochers’ Alley were the brightest, hence why its patrons selected it), she followed the movement. She was vaguely aware that the unicorn had also reacted to the disturbance, but ... magical horse versus bow-and-arrows – a Slayer knew where her duty lay.

 

Rupert Giles just saw the unicorn’s head raise and then it was gone, back into the depths of Stoneacre. Later, looking at the video footage, he would notice that the camera didn’t pick up the shimmer effect – the faux heat-haze – that he had perceived, but did record that, as it vanished, the unicorn suddenly and momentarily glowed fire-red.

 

Suddenly there were no more bushes, and Buffy found herself face-to-spiky-metal-poles-set-in-concrete – the Park had come to an end and she was at the fence. And, through the bars, she could see a small pickup, with a canvas cover over the back, pulling away. She considered vaulting the fence but somehow she didn’t think Slayer-speed was going to catch up with the vehicle. She didn’t see how the archer had got it running and away so quickly, and then it occurred to her that, if she had the Scoobies (and Spike and Dru their little gang of baby-vamps), it wouldn’t be beyond a Robin Hood to have a Merry Man on stand-by.

She exhaled, and let her adrenalin seep back into ... wherever it was that it went when she no longer needed it. Then, as her body started to cool down, her brain managed to get a coherent thought through, and she reached for the cell-phone she had tucked ... well, where most people wouldn’t think to look for it and it didn’t fall out.

She pressed speed-dial (this was the phone she’d got for Slayer-business, so it only had the one speed-dial number).

“Giles – you there?”

“Yes, Buffy – amazingly, I am still here, still where I ought to be. Where, the question is, are you?”

“ ’m by the Park fence. There was someone else watching the unicorn show, and I think they had a bow. I went for a word but they didn’t hang about.”

“All right – the creature has gone, so we’ll call it a night. Meet me at – ”

“I’m going to check Golden Meadows,” Buffy told him: “Willow turned up that they’ve had three interments today.”

“All right – shall I – ?”

“I should be back at yours in forty-five. See’ya!”

 

In fact it was twenty-eight minutes later and Giles only just managed to persuade Buffy that, whatever it had been that she had thought that she had seen, since there didn’t seem at present to be any evidence of vampire or of demonic influence, it would wait until all the Scoobies were assembled next day (which, as it was a Saturday, and school-free, would be shortly after lunch, Slayers needing their rest, or their pretence of it, if ‘people’ (i.e. Sunnydale’s finest) weren’t to get ... suspicious).

And then he could get back to BBC-America and a cup of tea and what was, by now, yesterday’s golf.

 

Cordelia was the first to turn up, which was unusual. What was also unusual was that she was dressed not in one of her usual couture outfits, but in stout hiking trousers (admittedly girl-cut), a flannel shirt (over her silk cami), and carrying a camera, a hiking stick and a canteen.

Giles was about to ask what the occasion was, when Xander arrived, dressed similarly Sierra Club.

“Clearly, you’re going somewhere?”

“He’s coming along,” Cordy said, “with me. Once Buffy’s and you have told us that this isn’t a weirdly-disguised demon, lover-boy and I are going to look for it in the Park. I’ve promised him five minutes of heaven if he finds it for me.”

“Not a chance!” Willow exclaimed, and Giles turned to see her hauling a Rube Goldberg –esque contraption into view. “My cyber sniffer will have the unicorn tracked down before Xander’s even got his tongue out of your mouth.”

“Me-eow! Have you been over-dosing on triple shots from the Mocha Bar again?” Cordelia rejoined.

“And have you – ?”

“Ladies!!” Giles exclaimed, but before he could go on, Buffy had arrived and pitched in.

“Well – what’s this, Cordy: an all-in steampunk/lumberjack mash-up?”

“I didn’t want – ” Xander started to protest but Cordelia had a come-back ready.

“Zip it, or no cuddling!”

Xander promptly shut up. 

Giles explained what the others had said and Buffy gave them all quizzical looks.

“Didn’t wait for the sitch, huh?” She smiled and sat down. “Someone else’s after the unicorn – someone in black .. well, grey. I think – and carrying heat.”

“So?” Cordy countered.

“So unless Xander has a portable shield, or Willow can become arrow-impermeable –” (she was proud of that last one – five syllables, and exactly the right word) “you could both be looking at Death by Impalement.” And before they could reply, she turned back to Giles: “And we still don’t know it’s not a demon.”

“No, we don’t,” Giles agreed.

“How can something that cu-ute be a demon?!” Cordelia protested.

“Cordelia!!” Buffy snapped. “Listen to yourself! Since when did ‘cute’ mean anything to you?” She turned to Willow: “No, Will! Whatever that is, do you think you’re going to get near to a wild animal towing something like that after you? And Xander: I know you were Solider-Boy once, so access those memories and tell me how you’d deal with someone with a long-bow?”

“Die,” Zander said, reflexively, then grinned: “I take your point.”

 

“I’m not sure – I never got close enough to see who he was – or even if it was a he or a she. But I’m sure about the bow – hard to hide that – and pretty sure about the camouflage.”  
“I can find no indication of a demon specifically taking the form of a unicorn,” Giles said: “Though that doesn’t rule out one that can shape-shift and just happens to have selected this form in particular.”

“So, no demon,” Cordelia said, brightly.

And yet,” Buffy said, “both you and Will are bespelled in some way.”

“What do you mean?” Willow demanded to know.

“You’re off your researching and building wacko machines, and Cordy here is deolali over a stuffed toy, and dressing out of Sears – the upholstery section – not Avenue Cinq.”  
“In both instances, specific examples of uncharacteristic behaviour,” Giles affirmed; “If we had an Eye of Thorion available...”

“Why couldn’t we use Themiramis’ Ocular?” Willow asked, before stopping suddenly.

“Just when did you read the Azerac Chronicles?” Giles asked, in one of his “OMG, the world may be about to end” accents.

“Oh ... er, well ... you remember –” Willow babbled.

“I remember that I locked the bookcase –” Giles replied.

“Time out!” Buffy insisted: “Will, what’s this Ocular?”

Giles drew breath to protest, but a hand-signal from his Slayer held him off. Willow had dropped the string by which she had been hauling the “cyber sniffer” and started to explain, in her nineteen to the dozen babble. Then he went over to the bookshelves, and pulled down the Chronicles.

“See, Buffy – according to this –”

 

Buffy relaxed: whatever influence the unicorn had had over her best friend had crumbled away before Willow’s insatiable need for knowledge.

Now she just had to work out how to detoxify Cordelia ....

**Author's Note:**

> Another starter that may develop later.
> 
> The title is deliberately deceptive, to draw readers in, and because I'm English.


End file.
